


Killer pancakes

by Im_Fratt_Trash (raysire)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6701392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raysire/pseuds/Im_Fratt_Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt:</p><p>"Matt and frank are in a relationship much to the dismay of foggy, but once his apartment is being fumigated he gets a first hand look at why they are perfect for each other. [Domestic fluff, couple things]"</p><p>Just what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killer pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely anon who sent me the prompt on Tumblr, and sorry if it took me so long to write it!
> 
> As usual, unbeta'd and non-native speaker, please don't be mean. Constructive criticism always accepted. Peace!

“Seriously, Matt? Castle, of all people?” Foggy shook his head.  
Matt could almost _taste_ Foggy’s frustration in his tone of voice. He chuckled to himself. He could always trust Foggy to be worried about him and his sentimental choices. He was usually right, tough Matt would never tell him that.  
  
“What about him?”  
“What about him, you ask? He’s a psycho murderer! He walks around town by night with a rifle – or worse - and a skull painted on his shirt!”  
“Yeah Foggy, I had heard of that. But you should give him a chance.”  
“A _chance_? You’re asking me for more than a chance! You’re asking me to live with him for three days!”  
“Well, technically, you’ll be staying at _my_ place. Anyway it’s not like he’s there all the time, you know. And we have a day job.”  
  
Foggy did not reply. He went to the next room and poured himself a cup of coffee. Matt could hear him walk around muttering to himself, like he always did when he needed to make his mind up over something.  
  
“Fine, I’ll do it! But if things get weird I’m out!” he called from his office a few minutes later.  
  
Matt held back a smile. He had hoped to keep his…relationship with Frank a secret for a little longer, exactly for this reason. He knew Karen would have nothing against it: she knew Frank well and had been the first to trust him, at Nelson  & Murdock. Foggy, on the other hand… He could be stubborn sometimes.  
  
Earlier that same morning, Foggy had asked Matt to crash at his place while his apartment was being fumigated (“damn termites, I’m going to sue the pants off of the landlord”) and Matt had had no choice but to confess.  
  
“How… Why?” – had been Foggy’s initial reaction; Matt had found himself standing in his office, with his back to his desk, explaining to his best friend how exactly he had become first the lover, then the partner of no one else than The Punisher himself. How in the past six months they had found themselves on the same rooftop a little too often to call it a coincidence, until they had decided to ditch cowl and skull-t-shirt for one night and go grab a coffee together. How they had grown closer, exchanging stories about the reasons that had turned them into vigilantes, until they had realised that their hearts seemed to ache less and less with each word.  
  
He had kept the details to himself, though, because even if he could not exactly _see_ him, he could very well tell that Foggy was staring at him with his mouth open, trying to find the words to express his feelings about this. Foggy’s heartbeat and heavy breathing were enough for Matt to understand that he wasn’t happy. Scared, even? Possible? Was Foggy worried for him?

“Good” Matt called back from his own office “tonight at 8 at my place, we… I mean, _I’ll_ be waiting for you. And you’ll be sleeping on the couch!” he added, smiling.  
  
Foggy didn’t reply, but Matt was quite sure he heard a grunt coming from his general direction. He took it as an “OK”.  


*-*-*-*  
  
  
At eight o’clock that same day, Foggy knocked on Matt’s door. He was surprised at how sweaty his hands were. Well, one should expect to be a little nervous, at the prospect of sharing an apartment with a serial killer.

When Matt opened the door, Foggy heard music coming from inside.  
  
“Man, are you listening to Kansas?” he asked without as much as a hello. The radio in the living room was in fact playing Dust in the Wind at low volume.  
“Yeah, um… Frank is.”  
“Great. Dude’s got my dad’s music taste.”  
“Foggy…” Matt pleaded.  
“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I’ll behave!”  
  
Foggy would never admit it, not just now anyway, but he was glad to hear music in Matt’s house. It had been a long time since his friend had felt safe enough to allow any background noise. Maybe having Frank around wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.  
  
He left his bag and jacket in the corridor, turned the corner into the living room… and stopped dead mid-stride.  
  
“What the...?”  
  
Castle was sitting on the couch, a beer and a can of gun oil on the coffee table in front of him, a rag in his hand, calmly polishing what looked worryingly like an M-60.  
  
“Hey. Sorry, I was just…killing time.” He said calmly, rising to greet Foggy, who was momentarily at a loss for words and stared at him in disbelief. Disbelief at the pun, or the gun, he wasn’t sure. Probably both.  
  
Matt came to the rescue with a bottle of beer.  
  
“Frank, put that thing away. Foggy, sit.”  
  
Castle picked his stuff up and left the room.  
  
Foggy was trying with all his might not to freak out, for his friend’s sake. He had rarely seen Matt so nervous, and he could understand why. This was the first time Foggy and Frank met outside of a hospital or a courtroom. And Foggy had made it clear in more than one occasion: he wasn’t fond of Castle. He decided to give the guy a chance, after all Matt had definitely found something good in him.  
  
Frank returned to the living room and sat back on the couch, picking up his own beer from the coffee table.  
  
“Who’s hungry?” Matt asked, clearly to break the tension. “Is Thai OK for everyone?”  
  
At their mumbled consent, Matt got up to call the take-away, leaving Frank and Foggy alone in the living room. Castle didn’t seem to be the least bit uncomfortable in that situation. He was sitting with his right ankle resting on his left knee, arms outstretched on the backrest, his beer in one hand. Foggy, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. The guy wasn’t too tall but he was definitely impressive, with wide shoulders and crew cut, and the military-issue boots, black jeans and t-shirt (no skull on this one, thankfully) didn’t exactly give out a reassuring vibe.  
  
“So… You and Matt, huh?” he asked tentatively.  
  
“Yeah. Who would’ve known, right?” Castle actually smiled. A genuine smile.  Then sat up and leaned towards him, elbows on knees. “Listen, I know he’s your friend and he told me today that you haven’t taken the news very well. And I get it, I do. The Punisher, and all that shit.  And when you met me I wasn’t exactly at my best. But I really like him. I like this… _thing_ that we have. I’m not going to crap on it.”  
  
Foggy was speechless. That was probably the longest sentence he had ever heard Castle say. And yes, when they first met, he had thought that Castle was out of his mind. Unhinged, even. But now…? Seeing him sitting on his friend’s couch, perfectly at ease as if that had always been his home, and seeing Matt so anxious for them to get along, well, Foggy thought that maybe this ‘thing’ as Frank had called it, was doing good to both of them.  
  
“Are you asking for my blessing, Castle?” he joked.  
  
“Am not. I didn’t ask for the old man’s blessing when I married Maria, I’m certainly not asking you.” Frank replied with another smile “But I know you love Matt. And I can see that you are very protective of him. Figured I’d tell you that you have no need to worry.”  
  
“That’s cool.”  
  
Matt returned to the room, pretending he hadn’t heard the conversation and failing miserably, considering the smile plastered on his face.  
  
The evening went by easily. With the tension between Frank and Foggy eased, Matt relaxed as well, and by 10 o’ clock the food was gone, along with a few more beers, and the three men were laughing together at Foggy’s jokes.  
  
Foggy couldn’t help but notice how Castle tended to touch Matt very often. Not in a sensual way, no. It looked more like he was trying to assure Matt of his presence. A hand on his knee when talking to him, a brush of fingers on his shoulder, little things like that. Frank knew that Matt was Daredevil, of course, and he obviously knew of Matt’s heightened senses, but his behaviour around him showed that he didn’t take them for granted. He knew Matt was blind and didn’t try to pretend that he was not. At the same time, he didn’t treat Matt like he was somehow… fragile, as people tended to do when they didn’t know him well. Foggy liked him even more for this. Matt’s disability was a part of him, regardless of how much of an impact it had on his life. Anyone wishing to spend a part of their life with Matt, should be ready to accept the whole package, and Castle seemed willing to do so.  
  
Foggy still felt a bit uneasy, having to sleep under the same roof as Frank – and his M-60, mostly – but Matt’s couch was comfortable, and the food and beer had provided enough drowsiness to send him straight to sleep almost as soon as the two other men had left the room.  
  
  
*-*-*-*  
  
  
He woke up the following morning - more hungover than he was willing to admit - to the smell of pancakes. He sat up on the couch and looked over the backrest into the kitchen.  
  
Castle was standing at the stove, his back to him, wearing sweatpants and – was that an apron? Yes, definitely an apron - expertly flipping pancakes and stacking them on a dish on the counter, singing in a low voice. Foggy stared at the scene, mesmerised, for a few seconds. Now _that_ was a side to the Punisher he didn’t expect to see, or even to _exist_ , for that matter. Was that the same guy who was assembling a machine gun a few hours earlier?  
  
He then remembered that in his previous life, Frank Castle had been a husband and a father. Pancakes and aprons were probably part of his Sunday routine. He suddenly felt sorry for him.  
  
Matt walked into the room a few seconds later, barefoot, eyes closed, not quite awake.  
  
“Do I smell pancakes?” he asked in a sleepy voice  
“Morning, sunshine” Frank put the pan back on the stove, spun around and went to put a cup of coffee into Matt’s hands “Careful, it’s hot. Come sit.”  
  
Matt took the mug with both hands and went to sit on the barstool at the counter. Castle sat beside him, a hand on Matt’s knee.  
  
“Sleep well?”  
“Hm.”  
“Yeah, right, no talking before eight am. Sorry, I forgot.” With a smile, he got back up and placed a kiss on the top of Matt’s head. He then went back to his pancakes and resumed his singing. Matt quietly sipped his coffee, eyes still closed, listening to him sing.

The scene was so intimate, and yet innocent, that Foggy felt like he was somehow intruding. He wanted to lie down again and pretend to be still asleep, but he knew that Matt would be fully awake in minutes, and would soon sense that he was not sleeping. There was no fooling Matt Murdock’s ears. He decided to get up, then, and joined his friend at the counter, sitting on the free stool.  
  
“Morning everyone.”  
  
Matt grunted something that could have been “hello”, and Frank put a cup of fresh coffee next to Foggy on the counter.  
  
“Hiya. Pancake?”  
“Well, if you insist…”  
  
They had breakfast together at the kitchen counter, in silence to give Matt time to wake up, and when Matt left to get ready for the day – awake and caffeinated, at last – Foggy and Frank were left alone once again.  
  
Foggy wasn’t nearly as embarrassed as the previous night – Frank seemed to be an OK guy after all, certainly he did love Matt, in his own gruff way – but he was still a little uncomfortable, especially as Castle was wearing a flowery apron over a bare chest. Foggy didn’t know whether to laugh or ask him to cover up. He settled for a sip of his coffee. Frank had filled his cup again. Dude seemed to think that coffee was a basic necessity of life. “ _On this we can agree, man_ ”, he thought to himself.  
  
A few minutes later Matt returned to the room, ready for another day at Nelson & Murdock, and in half an hour, he and Foggy were out in the street, walking to the office. Frank had muttered something about a dog to feed, before giving Matt a light kiss and wishing them both a nice day.  
  
They walked in silence for a while. Foggy didn’t need Matt’s senses to know that his friend was dying to hear his impressions. Matt’s body language was more than enough: he was walking with a straight back, falsely confident, and kept cocking his head towards him, as if he was trying to _hear_ his thoughts. Foggy chuckled.  
  
“What?”  
“You. You look like a schoolgirl who’s just brought her boyfriend home to Dad.”  
“Shut up!”  
“You do! You are bouncing on your heels. And you haven’t wiped that stupid smile from your face since we left the apartment. I can’t see your eyes behind those glasses, but I’m sure they’re sparkling.”  
  
Matt blushed, but his smile widened. He said nothing. Foggy knew he was waiting on him.  
  
“OK, fine, I’ll admit it! Dude’s alright. Happy?”  
“And what changed your mind, Mr Nelson?” Matt asked, in his best ‘lawyer’ voice.  
“You’ll have to torture me, because I’m not telling. Gotta admit though, your _boyfriend_ makes some killer pancakes”.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> OK, I'm not good at writing "domestic fluff". This could have been much longer and cuter if I had managed to put on paper all the ideas I had in my mind. Anyway, I hope you like reading it nearly as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
